Diner Food
by love of pie
Summary: Dean has his breakfast interrupted once again, but this time it's not so bad.


_**Diner Food**_

One thing Dean really really really loved about being on the road was all those little diners in the middle of nowhere. Sam hated them. Dean hated Sam for hating them. Stupid man-rabbit. Had not a good two-bit sense in him when it came to food.

But Dean _really_ liked diners. 24 hour breakfast, a mean ass burger, and fresh pie was usually guaranteed. Of course, most of the places they stopped at were far from health food sanitary sanctions, but that was what made it all the more fun. The risk. The risk that Dean might not wake up the next morning because of some janky hash browns. And he loved it. He loved the grime, the grease, the noise of the sizzling stove with a hood over it that should have been thrown out 30 years ago.

But the best part of diners: locals.

Locals in the Midwest, in the Northwest, even in the South were the best people to watch. Diner people watching. One of Dean's favorite hobbies. There was the old man, chewing up his tobacco, then the blue-haired ladies, and then the accents that Dean could barely understand. The serving girl, the old bitch waitress, the cook that looked like he would spit in your food. Sometimes a family would wander in, and then the place would be buzzing with the screams of children, the yelling of the parents to 'behave yerself boyah'.

It was an obsession with Dean, the feel of the old diner, sometimes dressed up in the style of the 50's or maybe a hunting lodge. One had been outfitted with memorabilia from the Vietnam War; another had only moose heads on the wall. Other times it was just peeling wallpaper, but there was always a local newspaper to read. And those things were fascinating to Dean. They were never very big, but they had some of the juiciest stuff in them. One had an entire back half dedicated to ads for call girls, and 800-sex numbers (99cents a minute), and even a special at the local stripper club down the way. But there was other stuff too that fascinated Dean.

The police reports were always fun. 'At 3 am, Thursday August 16th, police arrived at the scene of a man stuffing frozen peas into his shirt at the Main Street Market. He was arrested for resisting arrest, theft, and breaking and entering' or 'At 8 pm, Tuesday March 23rd, a report was made of the local phenomenon, Bigfoot the Brave'. Dean loved those. Who could come up with better shit than that? Then the actual news was always interesting. In Umatilla Oregon, Dean had picked up the local Umatilla Reservation Newspaper. 14 deaths in the last month. Interesting, but depressing. Other times it was good. Local Fairgrounds Open! Farmer's Market with the famous Fennel Cake this Tuesday! Free wine and appetizers at the Art Gallery!

Diners were the best.

Of course, Sam often didn't come along when they weren't working a case. He would take the impala to the nearest place with fresh greens and fruit, and then come back to the diner, sit in the parking lot and eat a homemade salad in the Chevy. Dean didn't mind really – he could sit in peace and read the newspaper without interruption.

That was, until Castiel came into the picture.

And then Dean's routine was completely ruined.

Cas would just show up outside of the Diner and then walk in, and sit across from Dean, staring at him. Trying to discuss the apocalypse or some other grave matter when all Dean wanted was to read his stupid newspaper, or watch the old people pull out their denchers or flirt with the servers. But no. Cas wanted to discuss important matters and screw with Dean's sanity. And then Cas would ask where Sam was, why wasn't Sam here, they needed to all be together, Dean, Dean are you listening? Dean. Dean.

It. Was. So. Annoying.

And then, when they got into more populated areas, people would start making slide by comments about Cas and him. As boyfriends.

All Dean wanted to do was eat his greasy food in peace.

Why did Cas always complicate things? He made Dean feel flustered and pissy all the time. He stood in his personal space, had successfully scared Dean more times than he could count on his fingers and toes included by just _popping _where Dean didn't want him. And then Sam always getting annoyed at their stared downs, but Dean needed to let Cas know who was in fucking charge here.

But then, Cas had gone all crazy and AWOL, and Dean was surprised that he actually missed those times in the diners with Cas, arguing with Cas. And even when Cas had come back, he hadn't really. He had, you know, lost the bag of marbles, fell off the rocker completely. And Dean missed old Cas.

Hadn't he told Cas to 'Don't ever change'?

Well, Castiel had obviously not heeded his advice. And now Dean was stuck in the diner's alone again, with his greasy food, his old fashioned locals, his bitchy servers, his local newspaper, and the radio constantly on soft rock.

Fuck diners.

* * *

They were in between jobs, Sam sleeping beside Dean in the Impala. The radio was whispering a quiet country song. It was so early. Like 8 in the morning. And that bar last night had not been kind to Dean's head. They were in Idaho, in the middle of a forest, just driving along a straight highway. It was so boring.

A truck stop, a rest stop, anything. Anything that will have a vending machine.

That was when the diner slid into view. It was pretty decent size considering it was truly in the smack dab of nowhere with some view of nothing and the sweet smell of bacon. _Bacon._

Dean pulled into the parking spot, his wheels grinding the loose gravel.

"Sam, Sammy," Dean said, shaking his brother.

"Wha-what?" Sam asked, blinking awake.

"Food?" Dean gestured at the front entrance of the diner.

"No, more sleep is needed." Sam turned away from Dean, resting his head on his arm, falling asleep almost instantly.

Dean shrugged and went in. The bell above the door tinkled and Dean gazed around in surprise. For a cheap diner, the place was quite well kept. All the floors and walls and ceilings and tables were made from a rich colored wood, and on the walls hung many animal heads. Even a huge black bear stood in the corner, paws raised, mouth open to show the shined teeth and the glass eyes looking slightly askew. It appeared that Dean was also early. They must have just opened because there was only a young waitress ready and the sound of one cook. No one else was in the place.

"Just one?" She had a cute smile, with light brown hair and freckles on her nose. Dean nodded. "Well just sit anywhere."

Dean moved off to the back where a large window looked out over more trees and even a glimpse of a river. The girl came back over carrying a menu, napkin and utensils.

"Anything to drink?" She asked. Her name tag read 'Charlotte'.

"Just some black coffee. As black as you can go." Dean said, giving her a warm smile. She nodded and moved away from the table, but not before Dean called out, "Thanks Lottie."

Dean sat and watched the trees move in a gentle wind, his mind not really going anywhere. He liked that the radio wasn't on. Quiet was good sometimes. Charlotte came back with the coffee and creamer, setting it down before rushing off again. Finally, Dean opened the menu. Traditional diner food, with the local flavor, and since it was Idaho – a whole lot of potato type dishes. Potato cheese breakfast pie. That sounded good. But a Monte Cristo sounded so heavenly – but maybe too early to have deep fried sandwiches. Three stack griddle cake with an egg. Deep fried French toast – really? Probably just like fennel cake or something. Corned beef hash – a classic. Biscuits and gravy.

Two eggs, four pieces of bacon, toast, and a side of hash browns. That was it. Dean didn't feel like being fancy. He took a sip of his coffee and almost gagged. Maybe that was too black.

Charlotte came back and he placed his order, giving her a sweet smile that made her turn her head away and give a shy smile back. People started to trickle in, and she became busy with the new old-timers. There was a guy probably in his 80's that had the full cowboy look on – hat, shoes, floral embroidered shirt. A woman, probably in her 50's brought in a computer and sat down and began to type almost immediately. Another old lady came in with her husband and they argued over his earing aide and if he needed a new one.

The place must be good, because more people continued to enter as the minutes ticked by, even a group of Native American teens walked in making too much noise for so early – don't they sleep in? And then –

"Cas?" Dean said incredulously. There he was, in his trench coat, still in his scrubs (Dean hoped people would think he was a doctor or nurse – not a mental patient). His hair was messy, his stubble forever there, and his eyes were just as blue and squinty as ever. The hell was this?

Castiel gazed around the diner, before his eyes landed on Dean who was staring, mouth slightly open and brow furrowed back at him. Cas moved to the table and sat down across from Dean.

"Hello," Cas said, weaving his fingers together on the table top.

Dean didn't say anything for a minute. Finally he opened his mouth and instead of a greeting, a "What the hell?" came out in a strangled croak.

"Nice morning," Cas said, looking out the window beside the table.

"What… What are _you_ doing _here?_" Dean spluttered. "Where were you? You just vanished, Sammy and I have been praying to you, and you were just AWOL and what happened?"

"I am here because I felt like it," Cas said. "I have been around the world. And I am sorry I didn't answer your calls. I've been distracted."

Dean slouched forward, his chin in his hand. Suddenly, Charlotte was back at the table with his food steaming in her hands.

"Oh!" She said. "I didn't see you there!" She said all friendly to Cas.

"I didn't know he was coming," Dean said to her. She just set his food down before turning to Cas again.

"Would you like a menu? Something to drink?" She asked him. Cas looked up, calculating what he should say. Finally he shook his head, signaling he wanted nothing.

"Wait," Dean said. "Get a plate of griddle cakes, with bacon for him." She glanced at Dean, slightly confused then shrugged and jotted it down before moving away.

"Why did you order me food, Dean?" Cas asked. "I have no need to eat."

"Yeah, well they sounded good. I'll eat them for you." Dean said. He shook his head, before digging into his over-easy eggs on sourdough toast. They sat in silence, Dean glancing up every so often to make sure Cas was still there and hadn't disappeared to only God knows where.

Finally, the griddle cakes arrived, two of them – so large they hung over the edge of the plate. Charlotte set down a little thing of butter and syrup, and then the bacon. Dean grabbed at the bacon the moment she left. Never too much bacon.

"Hey Cas," Dean said, munching down on the bacon. Cas turned his blue stare onto Dean. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed your company," Castiel said simply. Before everything that had happened with Cas disappearing into the lake, Dean was sure his answer would have been, 'I have important news' or 'We have something to discuss'. Dean paused for a brief second in his eating, but then shrugged, mouth full, "Hey, I missed it too."

They sat in silence again, until Dean noticed the angel fidgeting.

"_What_?" He asked, setting down his fork.

"I don't see a paper in this diner," Cas said, searching the diner with his eyes.

"Why, you want to read it?" Dean asked, shoveling another mouthful of hash brown into his maw.

"No, I was hoping to get one for you," Cas said. "You always seemed to enjoy them."

Dean was slightly taken aback by the simple observation Cas had made into his character. He had usually used the papers as an excuse to ignore the feathery bastard that enjoyed interrupting his breakfast. But right now, the paper wasn't needed. Dean was happy just sitting in silence.

"Not very talkative today?" Dean asked.

Cas just looked at him. Then finally he stared pointedly at the griddle cake in front of him, "Dean, your second breakfast is getting cold."

"Ah well, it's probably not horrible," Dean said. He finished his plate and pushed it aside. He looked at the daunting plate with the cakes on them. "Dude, you gotta help me eat these."

"You could always take them with you," Cas suggested.

"No then they will get gross."

"Give them to Sam."

"Have you seen what the man eats? He wouldn't come near these in a thousand years." Dean said. "Come on, just eat some."

"Dean, I have no need to eat," Cas said again.

"No _need_, but you _can_. So just shove some down that gullet and I'll owe you a favor," Dean said, waving his fork around. "Mind you, an extremely small favor." Cas did nothing to suggest he was going to take Dean up on the offer.

"Dude, I just spent like 5 bucks on these and I'm not letting them go to waste," Dean said. He leaned forward and cut a bite of the cake, dipping it into the syrup and then putting it in his mouth. "Come on, it's really good."

"Dean," Cas said reproachfully. He tapped his fingers together nervously as he watched Dean cut another bite.

"Open," Dean commanded. He shoved the fork with the steaming piece of griddle cake against Cas' mouth like an insistent child. Reluctantly he opened his mouth if not to simple make Dean stop. The cake was shoved into his mouth and he chewed slowly before swallowing, staring at Dean the whole time with a slightly annoyed look.

"See?" Dean said, taking another bite himself. "Not that bad."

They sat in quiet once more. Dean every once a while would make Cas eat another piece of the griddle cake, laughing a little at the look the angel gave him. Dean has his coffee refilled by Charlotte, who was eyeing the pair of them with interest. But she never said anything and gave both of them sweet smiles.

"She seems nice," Cas said. He watched her walk away in her loose dress of yellow. "I like the color yellow."

"Here, Cas, look at that couple over there," Dean said, pointing with his fork at a table across the room. Cas turned and looked. "That guy," The man in question was an old hunchbacked man in soft blue jeans and a comb over of the white hair that was left on his head. "He keeps trying to leave a tip for Charlotte, but his wife or girlfriend or sister or whatever," the woman was extremely heavy and looked pissed off, her hair thin and white, her eyes beady. "She is getting her panties all bunched up because I think she thinks her partner is flirting with the waitress."

"How do you know?" Cas said, staring at the arguing couple.

"It's a game I play Cas," Dean said. "I try to explain why people are doing the things they are doing – why they look like that, where they are from, what their job is. It's fun once you get into it." Dean said. "Here, check these teens out."

The group was comprised of three guys and two girls, all with the same black hair and slightly dark skin.

"Those guys are Nez Perce. You know, we are like two miles from the reservation, so they probably just came out to have breakfast. What I don't understand is why they are up so early," Dean said, taking another bite of the griddle cake thoughtfully.

"They had to get up early to feed the horses," Cas said softly, staring at them. "Three of them did anyway. The other two, that girl and boy, the others came to their houses and threw small rocks at their bedroom window to wake them up."

"Oh cool! Yeah, get into the storytelling Cas!" Dean said. He forced Cas to take another bite.

"It's not storytelling, Dean," Cas said.

"Oh no you don't," Dean said, miffed. "No mojo for this game. Make stuff up, use your imagination."

"Fine," Cas said. He leaned back in the chair, looking around.

"Ok this one is a given," Dean said, pointing at the lady with the laptop who was typing madly while drinking down a cup of coffee. "She's a writer, composing the next great Twilight Saga."

"Twilight Saga?" Cas asked.

"Terrible, terrible story," Dean said. "I never read the books, but Sam and I were like 'hey! Let's get a movie' and we got the first one. Terrible. Awful."

"You are saying then, that she is writing a terrible story," Cas said interestedly.

"Dude, look at her. She is in a midlife crises. She's not married," Dean said, looking pointedly at her left hand. "Probably divorced, drives her kids to soccer practice in a minivan that is falling apart."

"Maybe she is writing the next Iliad," Cas said.

"Really? You really decide to use the Iliad as an example?" Dean said, rolling his eyes. "I never could get through that book in school."

Dean pointed at the man with the cowboy hat, "John Wayne fan for life," he said, smiling at the ensemble the man was wearing.

"What do you think people would say about us?" Cas asked.

"Hm," Dean pursed his lips, looking Castiel up and down. "I'm hoping they think you work in a hospital and are not a patient." Dean took another bite of griddle cake and then he felt his mouth drop in horror. "Aw fuck."

"What?" Cas seemed worried.

"They probably think we're a couple," Dean threw his head back and sighed at his own stupidity.

"Is that a problem?"

"Nooo…," Dean said slowly. "It's just a little weird. I guess. I mean, I don't know."

They sat quietly, Dean setting his fork down and sighing. Great, breakfast was officially ruined and awkward. Cas however seemed unphased, his eyes turned back to the window. Dean glanced out the window too, observing the pines swaying and a little bird, a swallow, flying past the window.

"There's a hawk out there," Cas said. He pointed out the window and Dean noticed the hunched bird, sitting on the top of a pine tree. It kept its balance as the wind blew the branches side to side. Suddenly it spread its wings and soared down into the tree line.

Dean sat in silence, his mind lazily moving from one subject to the next. Finally Charlotte came by with the check. Dean pulled out his wallet and paid 20 bucks, though it was only $15, which meant he was leaving more than a 30% tip. But he had liked her, she had a nice smile. Dean gestured at Cas to stand, and they walked slowly out of the diner, Cas one step behind Dean.

Outside, Dean looked around.

"Shit Sammy," He muttered.

"Dean," Cas said, also looking around. "Where is your brother?"

"He probably went off to get some food in the impala. Leaving me stranded here," Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. The morning air was brisk and he took a deep lungful.

"Walk with me?" He asked, turning to Cas. Cas nodded and Dean headed around the back of the diner and then down the road.

They ended up standing on a ridge, looking over the forest. Dean's hands still in his pockets, Cas standing still with arms hanging loose as they observed the landscape. A hawk – perhaps the same one, flew across the sun.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean turned to Castiel, somewhat awkwardly. "I've never asked you. But do you have wings?"

"Of course Dean," Cas said, looking up at Dean. "You've seen them. You've seen their shadow."

"Oh, well I meant – real wings."

Cas gave Dean a long searching look and then knelt down, running his hand through the gravel. "I suppose," He said after a minute. "It is such a beautiful morning."

"Can you show me?" Dean blurted out.

"No."

The answer was so abrupt and steady that it took Dean by surprise. And then he felt ashamed. Maybe it was like, taboo for Angels to show their wings, or maybe something else. He turned away from the kneeling Cas.

"I mean to say, I can't." Dean turned around to find Cas all up in his personal space.

"What… what do you mean – can't?"

"The earthly realm, it is different from Heaven. It is much harder for me to show you my wings here, it takes too much energy," Cas explained, staring at Dean. Dean backed up a pace, but still listened intently. "Also, it is very harmful to my vessel, and I expect it's excruciating."

"Of course, you wouldn't want to harm Jimmy." Dean sighed. He was still a little disappointed.

"Maybe when I regain my strength; then maybe I can show you," Cas said.

"Yeah, whatever." Dean turned back to look over the ridge. "Look at those mountains."

"What would you say… Majestic?" Cas replied.

"Exactly," Dean sighed again.

A rumble of a high horse powered engine and the crushing sound of gravel on rubber greeted Dean's hears. He turned, glad to see his brother, hand shaking a fruit drink, other lazily slung over the steering wheel.

"Hey Sammy! Check out who joined me for breakfast!" Dean yelled, gesturing towards Cas. Sam gave him a confused look.

Dean turned, and found that Cas had gone.

* * *

**A/N: Howdy! Hm another oneshot – I think. I don't think I could continue it at all – I have no idea where it could go….**

**This whole this is my headcanon...**


End file.
